


Little Talks

by nerbert



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hockey, M/M, Rivalry, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:22:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8121604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerbert/pseuds/nerbert
Summary: Alexei Mashkov isn't one to hold a grudge, despite what people think.





	1. Chapter 1

Alexei Mashkov isn't one to hold a grudge, despite what people think. He'll curse and rave on the ice when it's called for, (especially when dirty plays are involved) but it's not often he'd take those feelings far off the ice. After all, if he kept a grudge for every slight against him and his team, he'd have far too many enemies.

 

When he sees Kent Parson alone in a bar after the game, he isn't looking for a fight. Or, at least, that's what he tells himself. He isn't really sure why he walks up to him. A part of Alexei is curious. It's not every day that he finds a world class hockey player alone like this, cradling a beer in his hand. He approaches Parson, but he has no idea what to say.

 

Luckily, Kent speaks first. Alexei only has to stand by the corner booth for a moment, long enough for Kent to look him up and down and recognise his face in the dim light.

 

"You here to avenge your goalie?"

 

"Lucky for you, Parson, I'm only fight on ice." Alexei says, honestly meaning it. He's not a thug and he's not a bully, but he has a job to do out there.

 

"Really?"

 

"Is hard to believe?"

 

"You seemed pretty ready to take me to the cleaners tonight." Alexei isn't entirely sure he gets the expression, but he takes a hint from the context.

 

"I'm mad, was bad goal." Alexei leans against the table, Kent takes a sip of his beer.

 

"Goal's a goal."

 

Alexei raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Kent looks up at him, and puts his beer down on a coaster.

 

"Okay, yeah, it was a shit goal. You got me."

 

 _He's an asshole,_ Alexei reasons, _but at least he's honest about it._ That's something Alexei can appreciate. Alexei has known a lot of assholes in his time. Some he's played with; some he's played against. It's how it goes. Still, rushing a goalie and admitting it isn't going to put Parson in Alexei's good books.

 

"Very shit. Next time you try I'm not hold Snowy back."

 

They both know that goalie rage is no joking matter. Parson flashes a smile anyway. His teeth are straight and white and all accounted for. Alexei wonders for how long they’ll stay that way. If Parson wants to keep his million-dollar smile, he should have chosen a different career. If he keeps up the way he's playing, he'll doubt all his teeth are going to stay there for long.

 

 

_______________________________________________

 

 

Kent doesn't watch the tape from the Falcs game in avid detail. He's not obsessive. He's not watching Zimms' every play to see just how much he's changed. He's not making a mental note of every single dumb mistake he makes out there. He's not flinching at all when he watches the footage of himself crashing into the net and the subsequent dogpile he ends up under. He's definitely not watching the hulking mass of Alexei Mashkov pick him up by the scruff of his jersey and yell in his ear. Because Kent Parson is better than that.

 

He manages to pull away from his current analysis of Zimmermann's slap shot to try and figure out what the hell Mashkov yelled at him that night. He remembers some of the English, but the Russian was clearly lost on him. He tries to remember back in previous seasons, or even Worlds when Mashkov was on team Russia, was he always so loud? Or was Kent not listening until now? Either way it's the first time he's been called a rat before. It's a pretty weird insult.

 

A quick Google search reveals a YouTube compilation of Mashkov mic'd up at Falconer games. It's a mix of chirps in Russian and English as well as some exuberant celly-ing when the Falcs win. It becomes clear that Mashkov is the emotional center of the team. When they're winning, he's a six-foot-something ball of energy and when they're losing he’s a wave of fury. When it gets dirty Mashkov is there, and he's not afraid to act threatening. He's huge and Russian, anyone with an ounce of sense would be threatened. While Kent may not be sensible, he knows his limits. He's 5'10", and he'll avoid a fight when he can. Doesn't stop him playing hard when it calls for it. He's a captain, he's got to be smart but he's also got to be tough. Kent does his best. Maybe he can be a little reckless, but so far it's won him two Stanley Cups, so he must be doing something right.

 

The next time the Falconers play the Aces, Kent is still high strung. He's not even going to try and pretend he's not thinking about Jack Zimmermann. It's not like he can avoid it; every second interview question is Kent Parson's thoughts on the Zimmermann rookie phenomenon. It stings.

 

He tries not to think about going face to face with Jack, but he does anyway. He wonders if Jack will continue to be a brick wall against him, or if he'll crack and shove Kent off this time. Kent wonders if Jack even cares that he's playing against Kent. Maybe spite will work in Kent's favour again and he'll scrape in another win for the Aces, or maybe Kent won't be good enough this time. Maybe Kent will make yet another mistake.  Kent Parson never liked the word 'maybe'.

 

He likes the words "Over Time Loss" a lot less. 2-1 isn't necessarily bad, but Kent isn't happy about it. It very much feels like a personal defeat. Then again, with Jack on the other team, anything seems personal.

 

And he really isn't in the mood to be grilled by fucking Mashkov _again._

 

"Parson."

 

He catches Kent on the way out of locker room after the game. What is he even doing back here? Is he waiting on Kent?

 

"Mashkov." Kent bites back.

 

"We talk?"

 

Kent really wants to say no. He's really tired, and definitely not in the mood for talking to anyone, let alone a Providence Falconer.

 

"Please, is important." Mashkov's voice is low, but Kent reads an urgency in there. He doesn't have anywhere to be, so he hasn't much to lose.

 

"Drive me to a bar. We'll talk." He says, walking down the hallway. He says over his shoulder "You're buying first round."

 

Mashkov chirps him about that, but readily agrees.

 

He takes Kent to some bar in Providence that he must go to a lot. The bar tender waves at him when they enter. There's no commotion over two NHL stars being in the room, which either means the place is low key or they value Mashkov as a customer. Kent reckons the latter when they snag a small table out of sight from the rest of the bar. True to his word, Mashkov orders two beers.

 

"So what do you want to talk about? Knitting? Dating advice? You need some tips on your wrist shot?"

 

"My wrist shot fine." He says. "I'm wanting to ask you about Jack Zimmermann."

 

Kent surprises himself by not spitting out his drink.

 

"What makes you think I'll talk to you about Zimmermann?" Kent does his best to act cool. He wonders if it convinces Mashkov. It's hard to tell.

 

"I'm not stupid. I notice, some others on team notice. When you and Jack out on ice at same time things are tense. You push at him. More reckless. Jack not talk about, say there's no problem. Do we have problem?"

 

It's not like Kent is going to tell the truth to practically a stranger. He's gone six years without telling a soul, he's not going to stop now.

 

"There's no problem."

 

"Lie."

 

Kent sighs in frustration and takes a drink.

 

"What do you want from me?"

 

"Some truth."

 

"What if you don't like what I have to say?" Kent knows he's walking a very thin line.

 

"Still truth."

 

"It's not my place to tell you." If Jack is keeping his mouth shut, Kent isn't about to go blabbering.  To his credit, Mashkov doesn't look too surprised when his line of questioning fails.

 

"Okay, I talk then? You listen and not say anything."

 

Kent is admittedly curious. He leans back and listens.

 

"So, you and Jack. Used to be friends. Play lots of good hockey together years ago, everyone know this. Then, draft. You get sent off to Vegas and Jack go to rehab. Jack go to college, you win Stanley Cups. Jack go to NHL, now you both not friends. Some say rivals."

 

"That's the gist of it." Kent says slowly, considering his words. All of what Mashkov is said is common knowledge. He doesn't quite see what he is getting at, but he doesn't like it.

 

"So what’s problem? Why you play hard on him? What you trying to prove? You have cups, you have C on chest, Jack is still rookie. Why bother with this act?"

 

Kent's drink is empty. He scowls, and Mashkov knows he's struck something. At least he has the grace not to look smug about it. The fact he isn't smug only makes Kent angrier. Why is this guy so fucking obsessed with protecting his team? Kent gets up to his feet, and wills his hands not to shake. Mashkov doesn't rise to meet him.

 

"Imagine for a second that your best _fucking_ friend almost dies, and then he ups and leaves you. Imagine him cutting you out of his life, without a single explanation why. And imagine when you do see him, after all those years, he doesn't even care about you at all. Then go and ask me what's my fucking problem."

 

Kent leaves the Bar. He grabs a taxi back to the hotel. He doesn't cry, he's too tired for all of that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, can you believe we actually got Tater and Kent to appear in the same panel? I never though that would happen, look how far this rarepair has come. Bless.
> 
> Basically this is just my idea on how Kent and Tater's relationship could develop past being rivals to something more. I started writing this after 3.8 and before the rest of the updates have happened. I have no idea where this fanfic may go, let's hope it goes somewhere fun? 
> 
> If you spot any spelling errors feel free to let me know (but be gentle pls) and likes and comments are much appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

The next time the Falcs play the Aces is later, before the All Star break. Alexei hasn't talked to Kent Parson since that night in the bar. He's not sure what to make of his story. He can't ask Jack about what Parson said, because Alexei feels like it would be a betrayal of sorts. Neither Jack, or anyone else on the team knows about Alexei and Kent Parson's little conversations. He's pretty sure if anyone did know about it, they'd chirp him out for 'fraternising with the enemy'. People have taken the supposed Falcs/Aces rivalry and ran full tilt with it. Perhaps Alexei should stop trying to understand Kent Parson and focus more on playing good hockey. Parson is not what Alexei would deign a good distraction.

 

If Parson wants to stop being such a damn asshole to his team on the ice, he'd appreciate it. No matter how many words Alexei calls him, it doesn't help. Then again, Alexei says a lot of things on the ice. Usually players say stuff right back to him, but not Parson. What the stuff Parson says off the ice is a lot more captivating.  Thirdy calls Parson a "sly bastard" and Alexei is inclined to agree. It's not like him and Parson are friends anyway.

 

The next Falconers/Aces match up is on Providence home ice. While there's the usual sea of Falconers' blue in the stands, Alexei can't help but pick out the small sections of people in black, white and red jerseys. Objectively speaking, Alexei thinks the blue looks better.

 

On the other side of the ice, Kent Parson and the rest of the Las Vegas Aces are warming up. Alexei is stretching next to Jack, and if Jack is at all unsettled by Parson being in the building, he doesn't show it. He wonders if maybe this whole team rivalry has settled down now that the season is in full swing.

 

Five minutes into the first period, and Alexei realises that nothing has settled down at all. Things are only heating up. There's been two goals in the first five minutes: one to Providence and one to Vegas. Beginning of the second period and Guy makes it 2-1. Alexei watches from the bench as Parson has three shots on goal in rapid succession, but Snowy makes some beautiful saves one after the other. Alexei's going to make sure he gets Snowy something really good for Christmas this year.

 

He's pondering what kind of remote control drone Snowy might like when the Aces pull of a nasty little one timer that lands itself in the back of the net. Alexei swears while the crowd grumbles in annoyance. They're tied again. The Jumbotron zooms in on Kent Parson from the bench, showing off his flashy smile. Only this time, Alexei notices a chip in his eye tooth he swore wasn't there last time. It must have happened in some game Alexei didn't bother watching, or perhaps Parson just fell over one day and chipped it accidentally. He knows he really shouldn't be focusing on the teeth of his competition, so he turns his eyes back on to the game. It's looking like tonight could be a repeat of the first Vegas game of the season. Alexei isn't about to let that happen.

 

He jumps over the boards midway through the third, skating onto the ice the same time Parson line starts a shift. They make for a break away down the right wing, Parson with the puck and Alexei rushes forward to meet him. Alexei checks him, but it's too late, Parson already passed the puck off to the center and down towards the goal. He goes to scramble after it when the Aces player wheels around behind the net. Marty appears at his side and he crushes him against the boards. Another Aces player comes in full force to shove Marty off, and suddenly there's a scrum on the ice.

 

Alexei immediately rushes forward to help out when he notices a blur of blond hair in the corner of his eye. Kent Parson makes to skate pass him, but not before Alexei can grab a handful of the back of his jersey. He spots Jack standing off to the side down the end of the rink and grips a little tighter. Parson looks over his shoulder at Alexei, surprised that someone has stopped him in his tracks.

 

Under the roar of the stadium surrounding them, Alexei grumbles "Stay out of this, Parson."

 

He tries to squirm away, but Alexei's grip is too strong. Parson admits defeat and stays still. The linesmen and referees are already breaking up the fight. Jack skates off with Marty towards the bench.

 

Alexei lets go, but Parson doesn't move right away. He shoots Alexei a look and straightens up his jersey. He wonders if Parson is going to say anything, or try to start something when the unexpected happens. Parson gives Alexei a nod and skates off. It's a miniscule turn of the head, but it's unmistakable. He's gone across the ice before Alexei can even think to respond.

 

"What the fuck was that about, Tater?" Thirdy asks as Alexei reaches over for a water bottle.

 

"Someone needed to stop that idiot." Alexei shoots off his excuse, feeling like he's been caught. Normally he'd be the first down the ice to sort out the fighting, not hold off the opposing team's captain to the side. Jack frowns, but doesn’t say anything.

 

They score on a power play and end up winning 3-2 in regulation, a perfect inverse to their first game against the Aces. The locker room is all smiles as they strip out of their sweat soaked gear.

 

"Zimmboni! Good game!" Alexei calls out. A goal and an assist is a pretty sweet way to cap off the night for their rookie.

 

"Thanks." Jack smiles, looking up from his phone. He doesn't usually have his phone in the locker room. Must be a special night. Seeing Jack after the game reminds him of what Parson said weeks ago back in that bar. He wonders what goes through Jack's head when he sees Kent on the ice. Is it resentment? Does he care at all? Alexei has no idea how to ask about that. Jack seems in a good mood, and Alexei doesn't want to bring that down with his questions. Doesn't want the whole locker room to hear either, so he forgets about it. 

 

Alexei feels fresh after the win. The post-game questions aren't too difficult, Alexei thinks his English interviews are getting a lot better. The last reporter asks him about Kent Parson and Alexei thinks carefully before answering.

 

"He's tough player, you know? For small guy he's not afraid to take risks. Sometimes bad risk. When he play like that, is easy to get mad. I get asked about him before, I talk about his style of play, different from mine. We learn from that game and win two games. We send message to other team I think."

 

After the reporters are gone, Alexei is ready to go home. This time, when he leaves, he finds Kent Parson waiting for him. Alexei wonders if he's accidentally signed up for some kind of post-game ritual with Parson without realising it. If he has, he's the one to blame for it. He's the one who started this conversation with Parson weeks ago. He doesn't know what Parson could get out of this arrangement, and he's not sure if any of this is a good idea.

 

"So I heard you're going to the All Star Game this year." It’s a soft question Parson throws at Alexei.

 

"Yeah, you?" Alexei asks, even though he already knows the answer.

 

"Yeah." Parson never looks awkward or uncomfortable, but this is close to it. "I just wanted to say thanks for the drinks that other night."

 

Alexei wonders if this is one of those times where someone says something but it means something else entirely. 

 

"Is okay." Alexei replies.

 

"Okay. Um. Great." Kent shifts on the spot with his hands shoved into his pockets. "I'll see you at the All Star Game then."

 

"Yeah." Alexei says, and Kent Parson leaves.

 

Alexei has known a lot of weird hockey players in his life, but he never expected Kent Parson to be one of them.

 

 

________________________________________________

 

Kent Parson learnt the first time around that the best part of the All Stars was not the hockey, but the bar hoppin. He's hardly an alcoholic, despite what his Las Vegas party boy attitude may suggest. He honestly doesn't have enough time to drink excessively with his NHL career going the way it is. A lot of nights he's too tired to go out clubbing. The All Star break is different. It's an unofficial rule that everyone involved must be present at the bar that night. Someone's already got a bar tab running, and Kent Parson isn't going to pass that up.

 

He's already two and a half beers in when the Russian hockey clique rolls up, and Alexei Mashkov is with them. While the group of loud (and already drunk) Russians make their way over to an empty booth, Alexei heads towards the bar counter. Kent finishes of him drink and follows him over.

 

"Kent Parson," Mashkov greets. "What can I get you?"

 

Kent thinks for a moment. He could go for another beer, but where's the fun in that?

 

"Tequila."

 

"And two tequila shots." Mashkov tells the bartender who nods at him. Kent pushes Mashkov’s wallet out of the way and slides his own credit card across the counter. He paid last time, so it only seemed fair for Kent to return the favour.

 

"What, no vodka for you?" Kent leans against the bar.

 

"Not always big Russian stereotype." Mashkov rolls his eyes, but he's biting back a smile. "Besides, probably not good Russian vodka here." 

 

Kent is pretty sure a bar like this would sell quality vodka, but he doesn't say anything while the shots are poured out.

 

"So, you enjoying the weekend so far?" Kent asks.

 

"Yes, is good to catch up with all old friends."

 

From across the room, someone yells at Mashkov in Russian.

 

 “…Very old friends.”

 

There’s more yelling in Russian. Kent looks over Mashkov’s shoulder at the group of Russian hockey players. He can’t tell what they’re saying, but the way they’re smiling can’t mean anything good. A few women have joined them at their booth.

 

“Some new friends too, huh?” Kent watches Mashkov’s cheeks blush.

 

 “Alyosha!” One of them calls out.

 

“I’m be back.” He tells Kent and takes a tray of drinks from the bar counter. He walks over the table and hands out drinks. He talks to the girls and makes one of them laugh. Kent is ready to move on when one guy starts elbowing Mashkov in the ribs suggestively, but Mashkov just shakes his head and makes his way back towards Kent. One of Mashkov’s Russian friends starts calling after him.

 

"You too picky, Alyosha, going to die alone!" He says it in English for the benefit of the whole bar. Kent stifles a laugh. None of the girls seem too hung up on him leaving, they’re already talking to someone else.

 

"Alright Mashkov, level with me. What's your type?" Kent looks around the bar, taking inventory of its inhabitants. There's a group of ladies by the entrance that keep sending glances their way. Perhaps one of them will interest Mashkov.

 

"Don’t have type."

 

"Everyone has a type. Come on, man, let me help you out."

 

"Don't need help." Mashkov smirks. "Maybe I help you instead."

 

"Oh yeah? Think you can figure out what I like?" Kent's joking, but Mashkov looks up for a challenge. It's a shame really, because Kent is painfully aware he has a type. He's also painfully aware that Mashkov is close to fitting it. Not that he's dumb enough to try anything.

 

"What Kent Parson likes? Can't be too hard." Mashkov looks around.

 

“You think you got me all figured out, huh?” Kent says, and waves over the bartender to order another drink.

 

“Can’t be too hard. Blonde? No, brunet.”

 

Okay, so maybe Mashkov has a point, but guessing a hair colour doesn’t make him a genius.

 

“I don’t pick up girls in bars.”

 

Which is true. Kent hasn’t had time for hook ups lately. When he was new to Vegas, and hockey wasn’t big enough around there for people to recognise him, he did it a lot more frequently. But two Stanley Cups changed that. Maybe Kent is paranoid, or maybe he’s just being careful but either way hooking up isn’t a big part of his life anymore. It’s not like he wants to explain to PR why photos have surfaced of him dancing in a gay bar. Kent thinks it’s for the best he stopped doing that a while ago. Despite his team’s chirps about the most prominent relationship in Kent’s life being with his cat, Kent doesn’t mind being single. He only minds when he gets lonely, which admittedly does happen, and it sucks.  

 

He expects Mashkov to respond with some witty chirp but he just shrugs.

 

“Me too.” He says. Kent is honestly surprised by that. A huge extravert like Mashkov seems like the life of any party he attends. Kent would never admit it out aloud but Mashkov has a charm about him. He could woo a babe or two under his arm in any bar he walked into.

 

“So what’s your thing then? You do those mail order Russian brides instead?”

 

“I’m change my mind about Kent Parson. I’m strangle on ice tomorrow after all.” His deadpan delivery makes Kent laugh. Kent is definitely laughing and not thinking about Mashkov’s massive hands around his neck. Thoughts like that would be counterproductive. Kent thinks he should probably slow down his alcohol consumption if his mind is already jumping to places like that.

 

In either an act of mercy or cruelty, several of Kent’s NHL friends decide now is the time to descend on the two of them still talking at the bar. The group is led valiantly by Kent’s own line mate, Swoops.

 

“Shit, Parse, your face is red already! Since when were you such a lightweight?” Swoops puts his arm around Kent’s shoulder and examines his face under the bar lights.

 

“Fuck off, I can still outdrink you.” Kent makes a half-hearted attempt to shove him off.

 

“Oh, is that why you threw up champagne on my shoes last Christmas?” Swoops had promised never to mention that, so naturally he chose now as the opportune time to say it. Mashkov lets out a barking laugh at that, along with everyone else. Swoops turns to him.

 

“Mashkov, right? You hear to challenge my captain to a bar fight? Do I have to defend his honour?”

 

“No, he buy drinks so we good for now.”

 

“Good, but also rude. How come you ain’t buying us free drinks, Parse?”

 

Kent loves Swoops as a friend and a team mate, but he kind of hates him right about now. Because he has no good way to answer that question. Which mean he’s left with two options: buy all of them drinks or refuse and be questioned further. Kent pulls out his wallet.

 

“Ah, Parse, you’re the best captain I’ve ever had.” Swoops ruffles Kent’s hair, leaving his cowlicks standing up in stupid places.

 

“Your hair ridiculous.” Mashkov smiles as Kent does his best to flatten it. A life time of using gel, hair straighteners and other hair products has yet to tame his cowlicks. This prompts Swoops to tell the story of the time Kent’s hair turned green from a hotel swimming pool when they were on a roadie back in 2013. It’s one of Swoop’s favourite Kent-based stories he’s accumulated over the years, and by now Kent himself has heard it far too many times to count.

 

“-And so he showed up that morning with bright green hair at a Dallas Stars game and the whole locker room just fucking lost it.”

 

“I wore my helmet the whole match, you couldn’t even tell-”

 

“Nah, you could totally tell. I remember this one dude got a photo of it and posted on twitter like ‘Is Kent Parson a secret Stars fan? Is he hinting that he’s gonna get traded to Dallas?’ I think the picture is still saved to my phone somewhere.”

 

Sometimes Kent really hates the internet, but he’s learnt to hate Swoops more. Swoops makes a point right then and there to tweet out the photo with Kent tagged in it. If they weren’t on the same team, Kent would have killed Swoops then and there. Instead he groans at the steady flow of likes and retweets while Mashkov watches on gleefully.

 

“You’re enjoying this far too much.” Kent frowns at him.

 

“What is word? Is karma.” Mashkov smiles like a wolf. Kent swallows down the rest of his drink and clunks his head down on the bar in defeat.

 

“Even I don’t deserve this.”

 

“Okay, now it’s time to cut you off. You get self-piteous when you’re drunk.” Swoops pats his shoulder sympathetically, as if he wasn’t the cause of all this pain. Kent thinks he is well up to the task to keep drinking but Swoops reminds him he actually has to play hockey tomorrow. Everyone in earshot groans at that.

 

“Come on, I’ll carry your sorry ass back to the hotel.” Swoops offers, even though Kent can walk fine on his own. Maybe he’s a little dizzy, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Mashkov retreats back to his own table with his fellow countrymen and Swoops leads Kent back to the hotel as promised. The walk does not go by in silence.

 

“So what’s up with you and Mashkov?” Swoops asks once they’re a block away from the bar.

 

“Huh? Nothing.”

 

“He literally wanted to beat you up at the start of the season and now you guys are buddies?”

 

“We’re not friends. We just…talk. I don’t know.” Kent faces straight ahead, avoiding looking Swoops in the face.

 

“I’m not dumb, Kent.” Swoops voice is low.

 

“What?”

 

“I know the games against the Falconers have been pretty rough for you. I mean, with _him_ on the team I expected it. But I really didn’t expect this.”

 

“What is _this_?”

 

“You tell me.”

 

“I don’t know, okay? It just sort of happened.”

 

“Yeah well, it’s weird.”

 

“I know.” Kent sounds defeated enough for Swoops not to push it further. It’s late and there’s still hockey to play tomorrow, even if it’s just an All Star game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I'm back with another chapter! It took me a little longer than I originally planned due to assessment I had complete, but the chapter is a little longer than the first one so I hope that makes up for it?
> 
> likes/comments always appreciated and I'm unbeta'd so if you notice any spelling please let me know (do be nice tho).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief warning there is a coming out scene in here and there is a little bit of miscommunication and tension surrounding that (and some vague mentions to homophobia that isn’t explicit), but it all gets resolved and nothing bad happens. I just thought a general heads up might be needed.

The following day’s game goes about as well as any other All Star match. It’s chaotic and ridiculous but no one gets seriously hurt. The worse Alexei feels is a hangover from last night, but once he’s on the ice he feels better almost instantly. The same can’t be said for everyone. Alexei feels immense satisfaction watching his drinking buddies from last night stumble out for the pregame skate. When they spot Alexei in a chipper mood, they immediately tell him to fuck off.

 

Alexei is surprised to see Kent Parson looking as cool and collected as ever skating around this morning. He didn’t know what to expect from the tipsy Parson who suffered through embarrassing stories last night, but at least he’s here this morning and his hair definitely isn’t green. Alexei reminds himself to chirp Parson about it later, as well as tell the guys back in Providence about the story. He reckons Snowy would get a kick out of hearing it. Maybe he’ll retweet the picture while he’s at it.

 

This time, Alexei and Parson on the same ice is a lot less tense. Alexei even enjoys it. When the puck comes his way, Parson goes to steal the puck and takes Alexei’s stick with him. He skates two sticked down the ice and scores. Parson glides effortlessly back to where Alexei is standing with a smirk on his face. It’s a different smile to the one he wore when his last minute goal was allowed at the start of the season. This time it seems kinder. Alexei fumbles a little when Parson throws his stick back towards him.

 

“Keep up, Mashkov” He says, poking Alexei with his stick as he continues to skate pass.

 

Alexei gets him back minutes later when Parson creeps his way over to him during a face off. He bumps into Alexei’s shoulder, Alexei bumps back. He pushes Alexei again but he’s not big enough to shake Alexei, let alone hurt him. His efforts make Alexei chuckle.

 

When the puck hits the ice Parson moves to shove pass him but Alexei isn’t about to let him go that easily. In one swift movement he pulls the jersey over Parson’s head until his face is completely hidden from view. He skates off as a headless Parson squawks and struggles. Everyone is laughing.

 

“Keep up, Parson” He calls over his shoulder

 

So overall, not a bad way to spend a weekend. The games and the skills competitions are fun, even if he didn’t win, and he’ll be happy on the plane back to Providence. He scrolls through his twitter feed while waiting in the airport lounge when he comes across a tweet from the NHL with Parson tagged in it. He taps on the follow button that appears next to Parson’s name.

 

A few minutes later his phone buzzes with the notification: _@KentParson90 followed @A_Maskov._

 

With a while until his flight is set to board, Alexei decides there’s no harm in looking at Kent Parson’s twitter profile. The first tweet he reads is pinned to the top of the page that dates back to a year ago. It’s a retweet from ESPN with a link to an article. Alexei opens up the link and is redirected to the ESPN website.

 

The first thing that loads on the page is a photo of Kent Parson, sitting on a Zamboni, completely naked. It’s an article for the Body Issue. Alexei feels his face heat up and he desperately hopes no one is looking at his phone over his shoulder. Alexei quickly scrolls down until he reaches the actual written article and not HD images of Kent Parson’s abs. And his legs. And the miles of warm skin that were usually hidden under hockey equipment. Not that Alexei is looking at any of that.

 

It’s a short interview, but Alexei isn’t the fastest reader so he finishes up the article by the time he’s set to board to plane. It’s a simple, fun interview with no real hard hitting questions. Most of the questions aren’t even about hockey.

 

He rereads it anyway on the plane, between rounds of candy crush and a small in-flight meal. The business man sitting next to him in the window seat is sound asleep, so Alexei doesn’t worry too much about being watched despite how years of media training have taught him to be careful. He scrolls through a little more of Parson’s twitter, but it’s mostly PR retweets and photos of a huge ginger cat. Alexei hadn’t picked Parson to be a cat person, but looking back he’s surprised he missed it. Kent Parson is exactly a cat person.

 

Alexei has only ever been around dogs all his life. He remembers his youngest sister wanted a cat growing up, but everyone else in the family wanted a dog, so they brought home a long haired shepherd mix with boundless energy that Alexei would take out running every day.

 

Alexei does his best to stretch out in his seat, but his legs are far too long for that. He’s grateful to touchdown back in Providence and switches his phone back off flight mode. It buzzes with a text from Jack.

 

_Zimmboni: Hey Tater. Have an old friend from Samwell staying with me on winter break, wanted to know if you’re interested in coming over for dinner tomorrow night?_

 

Alexei’s pretty sure he’s never turned down a free meal in his life, and he’s more than happy to hang out more with Jack and his college friend. He quickly texts back an emphatic yes.

 

Alexei spends the next day sleeping and squeezing in a quick work out before getting ready to go to Jack’s apartment. He’s not sure how casual this thing will be, so he settles on wearing a pair of jeans without holes in them and one of his nicer looking shirts. His shoes are a little scuffed. He hasn’t had time to buy new shoes lately and it’s often hard to find places that stock his size. He’s makes a mental note to go shopping soon anyway.

 

It’s a quiet night in Providence and he ends up arriving a little early. Alexei isn’t fussed, he just parks in the guest parking and waits in the lobby. Jack appears a few minutes later when the elevator doors ping open.

 

“Tater.” He greets with a smile.

 

“Zimmboni!” Alexei reaches in for a quick hug and Jack pats him on the back.

 

“How was All Stars?” Jack asks as he punches in his floor number into the elevator panel.

 

“Good, good. You come with me next year, maybe?”

 

Jack snorts. “Yeah, maybe.”

 

Alexei wonders how long Jack could avoid going to All Stars. He can be slippery when he wants to. But then again, Georgia Martin is a force to be reckoned with. She doesn’t give up easily. Alexei has always admired that about her, it’s one of the reasons he was eager to sign with the Falconers years ago.

 

The elevator doors open onto Jack’s floor and he leads Alexei down the hallway to the last apartment on the left. He opens the door and lets Alexei walk through first. As he walks in, his nose instantly fills with the alluring scent of roast chicken.

 

He follows the smell down the hall towards the open floor kitchen. He stops by the doorway when he spots the small, blond figure facing away from him stirring away at something in a pot.

 

“Tater, this is Eric Bittle, we played hockey together in college.” Jack walks into the kitchen and the blond man turns around.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Bitty.” Bitty’s brown eyes grow wide and he flashes a pleasant smile.

 

“Alexei, but team call me Tater.” He reaches out and shakes Bitty’s hand.

 

“Yes, Jack’s told me all about the team.” He’s still smiling and Alexei feels himself being charmed by the guy immediately.

 

“Oh no, what he say? Nothing too bad?”

 

“Nothing too bad.” Bitty agrees.

 

Alexei learns quickly that Eric Bittle has a passion for food. He plates up chicken and potatoes and salad that all smells delicious. Alexei can’t remember the last time he was this excited to eat a meal, and his first bite tastes better than he could imagine. He stifles a moan as he swallows.

 

“So good!” He tells Bitty, whose face warms under the compliments. “I could eat forever.”

 

“Just you wait ‘til dessert” Jack smiles. Alexei reminds himself to save some room for whatever Bitty has planned next.

 

The dinner passes on in comfortable conversation. Alexei learns a bit more about Bitty at Samwell University, along with the rest of his team mates. While Jack can be quiet at times, Bitty’s outgoing nature seems to bring a side to Jack Alexei hadn’t seen much of before. Jack has always been polite and a good presence in the locker room as well as focused and competitive on the ice, but here he seems calmer. Bitty manages to make Jack laugh in ways Alexei hasn’t done before, and as nice as it is, Alexei finds it all very new.

 

When their plates are cleared away and the bottle of wine is almost empty, Bitty retreats back in the kitchen to dish out dessert, leaving Jack and Alexei sitting alone at the table.

 

“Bittle is awesome.” Alexei tells him.

 

“Yeah,” Jack says.

 

“All your Samwell friends so good cooks? You keep good food from me?”

 

“Haha, no. There was a lot of frozen pizza before Bittle came along.”

 

Alexei hums understandingly.

 

“Is good friend, yes?”

 

Jack looks thoughtful. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

 

Alexei nods for him to continue. Jack’s posture changes as he speaks.

 

“Well I’ve been meaning to talk to you and the rest of the guys about it soon but, Bittle and I have been seeing each other since I graduated last year. We’re, uh, we’re dating.” 

 

Alexei sits there for a moment and lets the words wash over him. He looks away from Jack and towards the kitchen where Bitty is still standing out of earshot. There is a sudden silence that rushes into the room and smothers him. He tries to break it.

 

“You?” Alexei begins, but has no idea what to say.

 

Jack is looking at him expectantly.

 

Alexei never shies away from confrontation. Alexei has learnt not to flinch or look weak. But Jack’s gaze is unbearably piercing. Alexei gets to his feet.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

He slips down the hallway into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

 

Alexei stands by the sink and turns on the tap. The water splashes up onto his shirt. He curses in Russian and twists until only a steady trickle of water escapes.

 

He cups his palms under the stream and splashes the water over this face. Drops roll down his chin and splatter onto his shoes. He looks up in the mirror just to see he looks as shaken as he feels. Thoughts and memories continue to swirl around in his head.

 

 

_“Lyosha, you can’t stay here.” His father’s words held no malice, only fear._

 

_“I know, Papa.” Alexei had agreed._

 

_“When you go, you have to keep this a secret.”_

 

_“I know.”_

 

_“Lyosha, you must promise me. Promise me you will stay safe.”_

 

_“I promise.”_

 

_“No one can know, Lyosha. You have to stay safe.” He took Alexei and held him close. It didn’t matter that his son was taller, Alexei curled in on himself until his father’s chin lay atop his head._

 

_“I promise.”_

 

_“I love you, Lyosha.”_

 

_“I love you too, Papa.” He tried so hard to hold back tears, but they fell anyway._

 

He uses the hand towel to dry of his face. There’s a knock on the door. Jack enters before Alexei can speak. The easiness on his face from earlier is gone, replaced with the stone mask he reserves for media scrums after tough games.

 

He keeps a little bit of distance from Alexei. His hands hidden away in the pockets of his jeans.

 

“When George mentioned the You Can Play project a few weeks ago, you seemed on board with the team showing support.”

 

Alexei remembers Georgia mentioning it in passing. Alexei had been interested, but he tried not to look too attached towards working with the organisation. He hadn’t thought anyone had picked up on him in that moment.

 

“I thought that…It looked like you were interested in supporting that kind of thing. But if you’re not on board with that, if you’re not on board with me…”

 

Alexei freezes. Jack isn’t looking at him anymore; he’s looking past his shoulder towards the wall behind him.

 

“I don’t want this to ruin anything on the team. I don’t want you to see me as anything different.”

 

It takes a second, but then a wave of shame washes over Alexei when he realises just what Jack is saying and how terrible it must have looked terrible for Alexei to run away from Jack like he did.

 

“No, no, Jack. No.”

 

Jack frowns in confusion.

 

“No, I’m not mad at you. I don’t hate you and Bitty, you both good it’s just…” Alexei swallows. He’s never told a soul since he left. But he looks at Jack. Alexei honestly thought he was the only one. Maybe it was silly to think that, but he knew better than to take chances. Alexei believes in being fair. Jack opened up to him. He’s never been good at choosing the smart thing to do over what feels right.

 

“It’s just I never think there be someone else like me.” He feels guilty saying it out aloud. It feels like a broken promise.

 

“Tater…Oh my god.” Jack leans closer and hugs him. It’s the first time they’ve done anything like that off the ice.

 

Bitty knocks on the door and they break up.

 

“Pie’s ready if y’all want.” He says nervously and Alexei follows him back to the table.

 

They all sit back down to warm slices of blackberry pie and dollops of cream. As much as Alexei enjoyed dinner, it’s clear that here is where Bitty is most passionate. He’s eager to praise Bitty, and it helps to break the tension in the room.

 

“Sorry.” Alexei says quietly as Jack shows him down to the parking garage after.

 

“It’s fine. I’m sorry too. I had no idea.” Jack smiles softly.

 

“No one know.”

 

“No one?”

 

“Not team. Not George. Not in America. Only family back home.”

 

“I’m sorry, that can’t be easy.”

 

“Is what I do.” Alexei shrugs. He tries not to think about it like that.

 

“Well, thank you for trusting me with this.”

 

“Is okay. Can’t tell anyone, though.”

 

“Promise I won’t.”

 

Alexei thinks for a moment before he continues.  “Is strange, all this time I think I’m only one. You think there others in league too?”

 

“I can’t say.”

 

It’s not a yes, it’s not a no, but it’s not an ‘I don’t know’ either. It’s a frustrating non-answer. Alexei leaves it at that.

 

“I’m happy for you and Bitty. Look happy together.”

 

“Thanks. We are happy.”

 

Alexei wholly believes him when Jack says it. It might only have been one dinner, but it is enough to see the two of them together. Bitty is so warm, and Jack looks calm with him in a way Alexei hasn’t ever seen before. He thinks about the times he would jokingly tease Jack about always being on his phone to his girlfriend. So no girlfriend, but someone special after all.

 

Alexei surprises himself by feeling jealous. He’s never really felt like that before. He’s been around other guys with partners and spouses and never felt particularly envious. He’s always been okay being single. The others on the team always assumed that’s how he wants to be, and Alexei has been happy enough on his own.

 

He’s never dared to think about what could be, the idea always seemed pointless for him. He couldn’t see a point if he couldn’t be with anyone anyway. But watching Jack and Bitty, he feels a tiny pinprick of envy. He quickly smothers it with a smile.  

 

Alexei is halfway back to his apartment when his phone buzzes. He looks at his phone during a red light and sees a twitter notification.

 

_@KentParson90 sent you a direct message_

 

Alexei opens it.

 

_KentParson90: Hey I’m sticking around in Boston after a game this weekend. Wanna hang out?_

 

He only takes a second to reply.

 

_A_Mashkov: Yes. Sound good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…this took longer than I liked to write out. I had end of year exams and a shit ton of assessment which kept me super busy and stopped me from writing this. It was frustrating not being able to come through for this project, but at the same time it gave me a chance to plan out more clearly where I want this fic to go, giving that I started this thing on a whim and have been flying by the seat of my pants since. 
> 
> Each chapter seems to be getting longer, or at least this one is a hefty bugger and I had to split it up and post the first part when I had written it and the second part later. Good news- my school year is over so hopefully there won’t be such a gap this time! Hooray! 
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone who has commented encouraging things and given this silly fic of mine kudos. You guys have kept me writing and I'm very grateful. Thank you <3
> 
> So, up next: back to Kent’s POV!


	4. Chapter 4

The Friday game against the Bruins doesn’t end up half bad, despite them giving up the game winning goal late in the third period. Secretly, Kent is just a little relieved it didn’t go into overtime. Their game in Boston was the last one on lengthy away game schedule and they’d all been promised Saturday off. For the rest of the guys that meant hopping on a plane late Friday and a sleep in back home. For Kent it meant staying behind and doing a joint interview and photoshoot for a magazine his agent had lined up.

 

He waves goodbye to Swoops and everyone else as they board the bus on the way to the airport. Swoops ruffles his hair and tells him to have a fun weekend.

 

“Yeah, eight hours talking to media jackasses and having my picture taken, perfect.”

 

“What, like you don’t love talking about yourself and looking pretty on camera.”

 

“Okay, sure, sometimes it’s fun. But you know what’s more fun? Actually sleeping in on a Saturday.” Swoops laughs at him and Kent shoves him off.

 

“I’ll think about you when I wake up at twelve and eat a pile of eggs benedict.”

 

 “Don’t you have a plane to catch?” Kent whines.

 

“Yeah, yeah. See you on Sunday. I’ll even pick you up from the airport.”

 

Kent gets a cab to take him to the hotel. He’s checked into his room in time to watch the highlights from the Falconers game that went into a shootout. He watches the puck from Mashkov’s stick bounce off the side of the post with a frustrating ding. He skates back to the bench, frowning deeply while his team mates pat his helmet sympathetically. When Jack jumps over the boards next, Kent is tempted to switch off watching. It’s late and he really doesn’t need to watch this. He watches anyway.

 

He watches Jack glide past the blue line handling the puck on his stick like he was born to do it. He skates in close, fakes once, twice, then slides it home past the goalie’s skate. The siren sounds and the Falconers jump over the boards to swarm him. The announcers inform that this was Jack Zimmermann’s first shoot out winning goal.

 

Mashkov is standing by Jack, hunched over enough to yell something directly into his ear. Jack is smiling and laughing at what ever was said.

 

“First shoot out win of many, I’m sure.” Claims the announcer, and the video ends like that.

 

Kent wants to be happy for Jack. He doubts he knows all of it, but he can safely assume how hard Jack worked to get where he is. He knows Jack deserves to be here. Even after the draft, after rehab and then after he left for college, Kent has wanted Jack to succeed. The problem is, Kent wanted to be there when he did.

 

Kent realises its selfish. He feels guilty about it. But he also feels angry. And hurt. And even jealous. He still wants to be happy for Jack. _But why couldn’t he just be happy with me?_

 

There are little bottles of spirits in the hotel mini fridge. They may be over priced, but it’s not like Kent can’t afford it. He could easily down a couple and be out like a light, but he’s not a dumb teenager anymore. He knows he’s better than that.

 

He rolls into bed, setting his alarm for early enough that he can get in a quick work out in the hotel gym before he has anywhere to be tomorrow. He reasons that if he’s going to be up before ten on a  free Saturday anyway, he might as well make use of it.

 

It’s a cool February morning that Kent wakes up to. He makes use of the hotel gym’s treadmill before ordering breakfast. He gets eggs benedict and snaps a photo to Swoops, knowing he’s still asleep.

 

A car comes to pick him up and take him to the studio. He sits and scrolls through his twitter on the drive over. He opens up is private messages to the short conversation he’d had with Mashkov the other day. Kent had been complaining about spending a weekend alone in Boston when Swoops got fed up with his whining and told him to _just go out with friends or whatever._

 

“I don’t have any friends in Boston.” Kent had complained.

 

“Then make some.”

 

Kent had thought a little bit about it and well, Providence wasn’t that far from Boston. What harm was there in asking Alexei Mashkov if he wanted to hang out?

 

And then he had said yes.

 

Kent wonders if now Mashkov is having second thoughts and won’t want to meet up. He had a big game last night. Maybe he’d rather stay home instead. Or hang out with his actual team mates.

 

_KentParson90: Hey man, good game last night._

 

He gets a response by the time he’s stepping outside the car.

 

_A_Mashkov: Thank you! Good but hard. You watch?_

_KentParson90: saw the highlights. u still wanna chill tonight? If ur tired its nbd._

_A_Mashkov: No no I’m fine. I know some good food in Boston we go to._

_KentParson90: ok yeah. I gotta go now but I should be done with this stuff around five._

 

He switches his phone off, slides it back into his pocket and gets to work. It’s a long day, but it isn’t terrible. Kent is glad when it’s over, and he’s even happier to learn he’s finished early. It gives him a chance to hop back to his hotel, shower and change into fresh clothes. He sends a quick message to Mashkov, who replies a few minutes later.

 

_A_Mashkov: Still driving. Traffic bad I’m pick you up from outside hotel??_

_KentParson90: Yeah sure._

 

Kent waits outside the doors to the lobby, standing by the curb. He keeps his head down and his hands in his pockets and wonders where someone like Alexei Mashkov would take him. From what he knows about Mashkov, surely it would be somewhere fun. He can’t imagine Mashkov as a quiet guy who is going to take him to a modern art gallery, but there’s something to be said about the thought of the large man hunched over tiny art installations stroking his chin pensively. It’s an amusing thought to say the least and it keeps Kent occupied for a while until a big silver Land Rover pulls up, and Mashkov’s head appears through the window. He yells out a greeting to Kent as he rushes over towards the passenger side door.

 

“Nice car.” Kent says as he closes the door behind him and reaches for the seatbelt.

 

“Thank you! Is old model, I’m thinking I buy new soon.” Mashkov pulls back into the traffic in one swift movement.

 

“Really? What are you thinking of getting?”

 

“Not sure, Lamborghini maybe? Something with exciting you know?”

 

Kent relaxes into the seat a little more. Cars are great. He can talk about cars. They talk about their favourites for a little while and Kent gets to boast a little over the sports cars he owns while Mashkov listens excitedly. He learns that Mashkov has always wanted a Ferrari or a Lamborghini, but never bought one.

 

“Always want, but I think I be smart and buy sensible car instead.”

 

“I don’t know if a top of the line Land Rover is like, the most sensible car ever. Could’ve got a Prius.” 

 

“Ugh. Boring.” Mashkov scrunches up his nose, but his eyes are still focused on the road. “Land Rover have four-wheel drive.”

 

“You take this thing off road?” Kent looks around the interior of the car, and all things considered it looks pretty clean, and nature free.

 

Alexei shakes his head. “Want to. Sometime maybe.”

 

Kent thinks about all the times his team mates have offered-slash-threatened to take Kent camping. Growing up in New York, Kent didn’t go camping and as an adult he’s doesn’t see the point in it now. Sure, nature is great, but only when it’s kept at a respectable distance from Kent. The thought of camping out in Nevada with it’s too cold nights and too hot days seems like the worst idea ever. So Kent finds a way out of joining his fellow Aces on their journeys through the great outdoors. He can see Mashkov being into that kind of thing. Maybe not in Nevada, but he can see him in an alpine forest somewhere chopping fire wood and loading it up into the back of his car like some corny Land Rover commercial.

 

“So where are you taking me then?” Kent asks, snapping out of his own head as Mashkov is pulling into a carpark in the Seaport District.

 

“Okay, my first game in Boston, team take me out after to oyster bar they all say is best. Seafood there is so good, I thought you might like to try?”

 

 “Yeah, sounds good. I haven’t really tried much seafood.” Kent remembers growing up with his mom’s shellfish allergy which meant he didn’t really try much until he was billeted away from home to play hockey.

 

“You’ll like.” He smiles, taking his hand off the parking brake and steps out of the car.

 

Mashkov leads him down the street half a step ahead of him. Kent makes a conscious effort to keep up with Mashkov’s long legs and the new shiny shoes he’s wearing. For some unknown reason he catches himself staring at them, and wonders what size skate he wears. It’s certainly a bigger size than Kent’s.

 

“Nice shoes” He says, and Mashkov smiles. If it was anyone else, Kent is pretty sure he would have made a “you know what they say about guys with big feet” joke but for some reason it seems wrong. Would Mashkov even get the joke? Kent can’t imagine trying to explain it to him.

 

It makes him feel a little off guard. Everyone who knows Kent knows he’s a little shit who’ll flirt with anyone. Kent likes to have fun, and flirting and joking is a part of that. But when he’s standing in front of Alexei Mashkov without a drop of alcohol in his blood he second guesses every quip that comes to mind. If only Swoops could see him now, thoroughly tongue-tied.

 

They get a table to themselves when they arrive, and Mashkov orders a plate of oysters for them right away.

 

“You tried before?”

 

Kent shakes his head.

 

“Oysters are best. You’ll like.”

 

And he’s really not wrong. So maybe they’re slimy and a little strange, but Kent still enjoys eating them. He looks over the rest of the menu and quickly finds himself interested in the seafood ravioli. He orders that next and Mashkov orders some wine for them too. Kent makes a mental note not to drink too much.

 

“Alright Mashkov, you got me. The food here is pretty good.”

 

“Mashkov? We’re friends, you can call me Alexei. Or Tater. Team call me Tater.”

 

“Alexei.” Kent repeats, making sure he’s saying that right.

 

“I call you Kent?”

 

“Yeah, of course. We’re friends, right?” Kent says with a laugh. He thinks back to where they were at the start of the season and keeps laughing. “Kinda weird, I thought we were meant to be rivals.”

 

“We terrible rivals. Better at friends I think.” Mashkov -Alexei- laughs too.

 

There had been some articles months ago on the growing rivalry between their teams. The classic Parson versus Zimmermann showdown articles that drew in readers like flies to honey. After the first Aces and Falconers match up of the season, a few reporters also began discussing a growing rivalry between Parson and Mashkov. _The forward breaking all the record books against the defenceman not afraid to break a few bones._ Alexei wasn’t very fond of that one. He’ll defend his team, but he doesn’t like the term ‘enforcer’. Besides, He only broke a guy’s bones once. It had been a legal check too, thank you very much. He had felt bad about it anyway and had sent a get well card to the hospital.

 

“I think everyone likes pitting us against each other. Aces v Falcs. USA v Russia.”

 

“No competition. Russia is the best.” Alexei says with a smile. Then begins a round of chirping over the Olympics. They joke about it now, but at the time it had been so serious. Both their first appearance on their respected Olympic teams. No one wants to give up a gold medal. Especially on home ice, in the case of Russia.

 

Kent wonders what it had been like, being on the Russian team and losing. He knows better than to ask. It’s not like America was crash hot either, just missing out on a medal. But that way it’s easy for the two of them to bitch about the Canadian team, and how they weren’t really that great. It somehow leads to Alexei talking about his home country more and more.

 

“You miss it?” Kent asks.

 

“Miss family a lot. Miss dog, he so old now. Can’t bring him over here when family visits so I only see when I go home in Summer.”

 

“You have a dog? What’s his name?”

 

“Chernysh.” Alexei pulls out his phone to show Kent his lock screen: a photo of a huge black dog with looking up at the camera with drooping eyes and a greying muzzle.

 

“Cute.”

 

“You have pet?”

 

“Yeah, I have a cat.” Then it’s Kent’s turn to pull out his phone and show Alexei a photo. Alexei nods appreciatively.

 

“I know her, see on twitter. Name?”

 

Kent falters for a second before saying “Kitt Purrson.”

 

Alexei leans back laughs, but not in a mean way. Kent is used to the chirps about his cat by now, and at this point he’s decided to own them.

 

“Is good name. Important name for important cat.”

 

“You’re absolutely right.”

 

They’re interrupted by the arrival of their meals. Kent takes a bite of his ravioli and groans appreciatively. Alexei seems to feel the same way about his lobster. They eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes until Alexei speaks again.

 

“So you had photoshoot today?”

 

“Yeah, for some Men’s Health article.”

 

“You like photoshoots?”

 

“Depends.”

 

“You did Body Issue…”

 

“Yeah, I did. That was- that was cool, actually. Wait, you saw my Body Issue photoshoot?”

 

“Uh…”

 

“Oh my God, please spare me the chirps.”

 

“I’m not chirping! Was good photos. You looked good.”

 

Kent can’t believe what he’s hearing. Luckily, he has years of media training to fall back on in situations like this.

 

“I mean; it was a lot of fun. And uh, different. You know, if you’re ever offered, you should do it.”

 

“Me, try naked photos? Ha ha, I’m not pretty enough.”

 

“You’re not hideous to look at.”

 

Alexei snorts.

 

“You’re actually kind of handsome.” Kent really hopes he’s not digging himself a hole here. He can’t blame anything he says on being drunk right now. So Kent adds “Uh, objectively speaking.” and feels even more like a tool.

 

Alexei doesn’t look weirded out or annoyed at Kent. He looks almost bashful.

 

“I do photoshoot; you give me tips? Teach me sexy Kent Parson ways?” He’s giving Kent this crooked smile that says he’s joking, but his eyes are watching him intently.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Kent has to try really hard not to imagine what a naked Alexei Mashkov would look like on camera. He’s also trying to wrap his head around the fact Alexei just called him sexy, even if it was to tease him.

 

“Men’s Health, so you keep clothes for this photoshoot?”

 

“Yeah. A lot of work out gear and doing chin ups.”

 

“Doesn’t seem so bad.”

 

“It’s wasn’t really. It was just long. And I had to give an actual interview for it too.”

 

“You Americans have it so easy.” Alexei shakes his head. “Try interview in different language.”

 

Kent thinks back to the few years in high school he took Spanish and how terrible he was at that. And then trying to learn French. He imagines trying to speak it now, in front of a room full of reporters, and shudders.

 

“Did you know much English when you came over here?”

 

“Little bit, more than others. I try to learn as much as I could before I go but hard. English is dumb language.”

 

Kent is inclined to agree on that one. 

 

When Alexei goes off to the bathroom later, Kent sends Swoops a photo of his ravioli along with a chain of emojis.

 

_Swoops: dude, are you on a date rn?????_

_Kent: what? no_

_Swoops: so you’re at a restaurant by yourself? That’s sad bro._

_Kent: No I’m here with Mashkov._

_Swoops: Mashkov like Alexei Mashkov?_

_Kent: yeah_

_Swoops: wtf_

_Kent: we’re just hanging out_

_Swoops: You’re eating dinner with him in a high end bar in Boston sounds like a date to me_

 

Kent rereads the text five times. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of that. There’s no way, there’s just no way this is a date. He is not on a dinner date with Alexei Mashkov.

 

_Kent: we’re just hanging out._  

_Swoops: dude._

_Kent: What._

_Swoops: ugh nvm. Enjoy ur meal it looks delicious._

 

Kent puts his phone away after that, but the damage has been done. He begins to wonder if this is actually a date. Surely friends can go to nice restaurants together, there shouldn’t be anything strange about that. So maybe they’re not the most conventional of friends, but there’s nothing inherently date-like about this. It’s just dinner. Unless it isn’t. The only way to tell would be to ask Alexei. Kent cringes at that.

 

When they finish up dinner, Alexei takes bill.

 

_That doesn’t mean this is a date._ Kent thinks.

 

Kent tries to protest for a split bill, but Alexei refuses. He tells Kent he can pay next time.

 

_So they’ll have dinner again. A second friend dinner. Not a date._

 

They leave the restaurant and Alexei suggests they go for a walk.

 

_Nothing wrong with that. Just two guys going for a stroll. By the water. In the moonlight._

 

Kent admits that does sound a little romantic. Kent can’t even deny the fact he wants it to be romantic. Because tonight has been great. They’re both having fun and the food was fantastic and Alexei is so easy to talk to. He’s charming. And funny. And handsome. Kent can’t even stop these thoughts rushing through his head because they’re all so true.

 

He keeps walking half a step behind Alexei, only this time he slows down to match Kent’s pace. It’s a small gesture and Kent wants so desperately not to look too far into it. It would be so easy to reach over and take Alexei’s hand in his. He wonders what those hands would feel like, their broad palms and long fingers all rough and callused.

 

“When you’re fly back?” Alexei asks, breaking through the cacophony of thoughts in Kent’s head.

 

“Tomorrow morning. Early.” Kent grimaces, looking up over and Alexei to watch him nod sympathetically.

 

“You’re not cold out?”

 

It’s still winter, and Kent wonders what would happen if he said yes. Would he take them both back inside? Back to the hotel? Or would he do something that would make him want to die like give Kent his coat. Or sling an arm over his shoulder to warm him up himself.

 

“No, I’m fine. I grew up in New York, I can handle the cold.”

 

“You think that cold? Try Russia.”

 

“Please, you Russians are all talk. I bet it’s not even that bad.”

 

“Oh, like you know? Your coach make you skate on frozen lake in just underwear in January?”

 

“You’re fucking with me.”

 

“Coach say it build stamina.”

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

Alexei laughs and shakes his head.

 

“Should maybe take you back. Is getting late.”

 

“Yeah,” Kent agrees, a little disappointed at the prospect of the night ending.

 

The load up into Alexei’s car and drive back to the hotel. The commute is mostly quiet aside from the radio turned down low, softly playing pop music. Alexei hums along to the tune but Kent stays silent, watching Alexei’s hands steadily shift gears.

 

Kent thinks about how he hasn’t been on an actual sit down dinner date in quite a while. He thinks about how he hasn’t had another date drive him home in a long time either. Usually he’d be the one to take them places in his own flashy car. Kent doesn’t mind, he really enjoys driving places, but for someone else to drive him is a nice change. The soft hum of the engine accompanies his thoughts as Alexei stops at a red light. He looks over at Kent for a moment and smiles.

 

Kent smiles back, and he feels like he’s treading into dangerous territory. Swoops’ earlier texts float about his head as he hastily turns his eyes back to the road.

 

_But what if this has been a date all along?_

 

Kent wonders if this is all just wishful thinking, but he also wonders if it isn’t. He wonders what would happen if Alexei told him yes.

 

All too soon, Alexei is pulling into the hotel driveway and Kent finds himself regretting this couldn’t have lasted longer.

 

“Thanks for showing me around. I had fun.”

 

“I had fun too. You like the food?”

 

“Holy shit, yeah, it was amazing. We gotta go back there sometime.”

 

Alexei nods enthusiastically. “I’m happy we met up.”

 

“Me too.” Kent says, and he has to bite back a smile if he wants to play it cool. Alexei is smiling at him again, and the both of them are still sitting in the car not moving just yet. The question still dangles on the tip of Kent’s tongue, but he hesitates instead of asking it and it all comes out as a shuddering sigh. Alexei tilts his head in confusion.

 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Kent does his best to keep looking him in the eye. Alexei nods for him to continue.

 

“This wasn’t like…a date or anything, was it?” The worlds fall out of Kent’s mouth painfully slowly and he looks down at his lap, still surprised he managed to ask it at all.

 

_Because I really wouldn’t have minded if it was._ Kent wants to say, only he looks back at Alexei to see his stunned face.

 

“I’m not…I don’t know” Alexei frowns. Kent notices the way his eye twitches in a minute flinch as Kent shifts over to undo his seatbelt.

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Kent does his best to keep his voice light. “Forget I said anything, okay?”

 

He doesn’t wait for Alexei to reply.

 

“Thanks again for everything. I’ll see you around.”

 

“Okay.” He hears Alexei say quietly and Kent slides out of the car.

 

He all but races back up to his hotel room and tries desperately not to rip out his own hair in the elevator. In the four attempts it takes to use his key card correct he asks himself: _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ _Why the hell would Alexei Mashkov want to go on a date with me?_

 

Kent chides himself at his own naivety. He’s kept is attraction to other men secret for a long time. Kent can count on his fingers the number of people who know including close friends and family. He’d wondered if anyone else in the league was gay, but he would never be stupid enough to ask. There was too much at stake. But now he’s facing the possibility that Alexei knows. Unless he doesn’t. In Kent’s mind it’s hard to tell if Alexei can connect the dots.

 

Maybe he’s overthinking again. Maybe it will all blow over. Would Alexei care if he did find out?

 

Kent thinks back to the Sochi Olympics. He remembers some gay athletes protesting at the time, but he had been kept far removed from that in his own sport. There had been general warnings about ‘difference in culture’ and to avoid saying anything dangerously political, but Kent wasn’t stupid enough to see what was happening. He knew about the laws in Russia.

 

Kent wonders how stupid it was to ask Alexei if he was on a date with another man, given what it would mean if he said yes. Or, more likely in Kent’s head, what Alexei would think of Kent if he said no. Instead he got an “I don’t know”, and Kent has absolutely no idea what to do with that. Kent weighs up possible outcomes, but all of them are bad. He decides he’s too tired to fret over this right now, it can wait until the morning at least.

 

His phone buzzes with a message just before he’s about to get into bed. It’s from Alexei Mashkov.

 

_Have safe trip home._

 

Kent Doesn't reply. _  
_

Swoops, true to his word, does pick Kent up from the airport the next morning but he doesn’t let the drive pass by in silence.

 

“So, how was it?” He starts of casual, while Kent frowns into his coffee cup.

 

“It was fine.”

 

“That it?”

 

Kent shrugs.

 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Swoops watches Kent take a long gulp of coffee before talking.

 

“Okay, so maybe this whole Mashkov thing is kinda weird.”

 

“No shit, Sherlock.” He says, but lets Kent continue.

 

“Did it really look like a date to you?”

 

“Nice food, fancy restaurant, just the two of you. Hard to say, but it kinda did. Was it?”   

 

“Well, I asked him about it. But he said he didn’t know so I just left.”

 

“Did you want it to be a date?”

 

Kent bites his lip.

 

“Come on, Parse. Did you want to go on a date with the hot Russian man?”

 

“I thought you didn’t like Mashkov.” Kent avoiding the question all but confirms it to Swoops. 

 

“What? No, he’s fine. If he paid the dinner bill he’s a pass in my books. Still gotta give him the shovel talk though.”

 

“Don’t Swoops, it wasn’t even a date. It’s not like that.”

 

“He didn’t say no to you.”

 

“He didn’t say yes either. What the fuck is an ‘I don’t know’ anyway?”

 

“So, you just left and that was it?”

 

“He sent me a text saying to have a safe flight. What the fuck am I supposed to do, Swoops?”

 

“I don’t know, man. Relax.”

 

“Nope. I fucked everything up.”

 

“You didn’t. And even if you did, I still got your back. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

 

Kent leans back in the passenger seat and pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose to block out the morning glare. He lets out a long, pained sigh that has Swoops half-halfheartedly rolling his eyes.

 

“Thanks, man.” Kent says in a tone far too heavy for eight in the morning.

 

“No problem, dude.” Swoops shoots back, trying his best to make it sound meaningful.

 

“No, really, thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so wow, this happened. Things are happening. I'm thinking they'll be hopefully two or three more chapters and things will get resolved sooner or later. Who knows, maybe they will even be feelings and smooching involved! 
> 
> Thank you for commenting/liking/reading my stuff guys, I really appreciate every nice word it means the world to me. I rushed the writing of this one so if you spot any errors kindly let me know. 
> 
> I snooped around the internet looking for Russian dog names and apparently 'Chernysh' is a Russian name meaning Black I think?? I am not a Russian expert and I'm so sorry if that is wrong :/
> 
> So yeah, I might be able to get something written by Christmas, but looking at how these things keep getting longer we'll just have to see. 
> 
> Thanks so much, hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

Alexei has learned from previous years that the last quarter of games go by incredibly fast. It shouldn’t surprise him at this point, but it still does when they touch down after a Western road trip with a four-day break before they play their last back to back of the season. Everyone on the plane is exhausted, but still excited to be heading back home.

 

Marty and Thirdy are sitting down the back of the plane, skyping with their kids and promising they’ll be home soon. Jack is sitting with a book in one hand and his phone in the other listening to whatever post-game playlist Bitty has made for him this time. Snowy is already passed out, sprawled over Guy and Poots respectively, who take the role as pillows for their ailing goalie with pride and responsibility (and only a few photos of Snowy drooling on himself).

 

This means that Alexei is left in his own seat with no one awake or unoccupied to talk to. He busies himself on his phone for a little while, scrolling through the photos of Chernysh and the small mound of stuffed toys he’s destroyed sent by his sisters last night. There’s also a video of him barking at the camera while whoever is filming asks “Where’s Alyosha?”

 

Chernysh eventually catches on to the trick and huffs before jumping back onto the couch and settling his huge head on a throw pillow. It makes Alexei’s heart ache a little, not to be able to reach over and pat him.

 

_Soon,_ he tells himself. _Soon season will be over and I go back home. I see them all again._

 

Unless of course they make a deep playoff run. Alexei hopes they do, he hopes they make it all the way to the Stanley Cup. He promised Chernysh when he wins it, he’ll take it back home and feed him dog biscuits out of the fabled cup. He had barked in agreement to Alexei’s plans.

 

Alexei scrolled through the rest of his messages for a little while, until he reached the conversation with Kent Parson.

 

 

_Have safe trip home._ He had texted weeks ago.

_Thanks. Back in Vegas now. Fuck it’s so hot._ Kent had replied the day after.

 

 

They had texted a little back and forth since then, but it was always short and sporadic. Neither mentions the car ride back in Boston. Alexei still feels guilty about that, and he has no idea what to say to Kent to make things better.

 

It wasn’t Alexei’s intention to take Kent out on a date, or something that looked like a date either. He wanted to have fun. He likes Kent, but he’s never dated another man before. He’d promised himself never to do anything as risky as that. It would be too selfish. So when Kent asked him, and Alexei realised that he’d wanted this to be a date the whole time, he panicked. In an act of mercy, Kent left before Alexei could say anything else to make things worse. He even replies to Alexei’s texts, which surely means he didn’t ruin things completely. It’s the second chance Alexei needs to be more careful. Even if he wanted to date someone like Kent Parson, he couldn’t. He needs this relationship to stay friendly.

 

Even when Kent laughs at some silly joke Alexei said that makes him want to keep telling terrible jokes if just to hear that laugh again. Not the polite, media trained laugh he has in PR videos, but the kind of goofy giggle that really shouldn’t be attractive but Alexei still finds charming. Even when Kent smiles, showing that one tiny chipped tooth he tries to hide in photos. Alexei managed to track down the copy of Men’s Health magazine with Kent on the cover and took his time reading the article even if it lacked substance. A couple of the photos showed Kent smiling, but always with his mouth closed in almost a defensive smirk. It paled in comparison to the real smile he’d seen before in person. Alexei kept the copy anyway, shoved in the bottom of a drawer in his house somewhere, not wanting to throw it away and not wanting anyone else to find it.

 

He stops scrolling through the messages when a scrunched up ball of paper bounces off the side of his head. In the aisle seat across from him Jack is leaning over waiting to get his attention. Alexei grabs the paper ball and throws it back towards him.

 

“I was wondering if you wanted to come down to Samwell with me this weekend, see my old team play and stuff.” Jack asks after catching the paper missile aimed at his face.

 

“We see Bitty play?” Alexei asks quietly, sparing a quick look around the cabin, not that anyone is awake or listening. Jack still hasn’t told the whole team yet, but Alexei knows how to be careful.

 

“Yeah, and the rest of the team really wants to meet you. They’ll probably want to throw a Kegster in your honour or something.”

 

Alexei readily agrees to go. He wonders if college parties live up to all the craziness he’s seen in movies, and he’s very excited to find out.

 

Jack drives them down to Samwell the following afternoon. As they get close, Jack points out all the different buildings and Alexei feels like he’s on his own personal campus tour. They arrive at Faber with enough time for Jack to show him around the rink, but the moment they step into the foyer, there’s an eruption of noise.

 

“JACK LAURENT ZIMMERMANN.”

 

Alexei turns his head just in time to watch a blurred figure collide into Jack, almost knocking them both to the floor. The protective team mate in Alexei bursts forward to defend his fellow Falconer, only to find Jack aggressively hugging whoever it is back.

 

“Hey Shits,” Jack says as he ruffles the man’s brown hair. They eventually pull away enough for Alexei to see his face and Jack finally introduces them.

 

“Tater, this is Shitty.” Jack pats Shitty on the shoulder fondly.

 

“Yes, I’m Shitty, Jack’s best friend. It’s fucking nice to meet you, Mashkov.” Shitty lunges forward to shake Alexei’s hand, moustache twitching as he smiles.

 

“Call me Tater,” He shakes back, and Shitty nods appreciatively.

 

“Yo Jack, did you warn Rans and Holtzy he’s coming? I’m pretty sure they’ll explode if they see him in the stands.”

 

“I may have told them I was bringing a friend along to the Kegster.” Jack shrugs casually, and Shitty’s smile grows wider.

 

“How about we grab some fries and find our seats, yeah?”

 

People begin to recognise Alexei and Jack once they start walking around, so they stop every now and then for autographs and pictures. Shitty, to his credit, doesn’t seem to mind as Alexei talks to a young group of hockey fans and signs their shirts. He wonders if he’s done this with Jack before.

 

They finally grab food and their seats by the time Samwell takes to the ice for warm ups. They’re sitting a little far back, enough space for them to have a clear view of the whole rink. The sight of their old team mates is enough for Jack and Shitty to begin to reminisce and they relay old stories to Alexei, who listens eagerly. He’s excited to learn of all of Jack’s college adventures from Shitty, who tells them with much gusto and a tiny dash of embellishment (or so Jack claims).

 

Alexei laughs through Shitty’s retelling of Jack fighting off an entire drunken football team and Jack smiles proudly. He’ll be the first to admit he’s surprised at the sheer number of stories they both seem to have. Alexei would have guessed Jack being a history major would have meant a pretty boring college experience, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

 

He’s reminded of the few stories he has about his old teammates from before he went over to the NHL. It’s seems to be a common thread, the shared shenanigans from a time before the pressure of professional hockey sat on their shoulders.  Back when they were kids, and were allowed to act like kids too. For Alexei, it’s a lifetime ago.

 

Nearing the end of warmups, Alexei scans the ice and asks Jack “What number is Bitty play?”

 

“Fifteen.”

 

Alexei spots the number fifteen jersey quick enough, surprised he managed to miss it. Bitty is at the end closest to them, skating in tight circles with his stick in hand. He’s the smallest on the ice, and he sticks out easy enough. For a moment, Alexei feels a flicker of worry. Bitty is the kind of player that would be an easy target. He hopes whoever else is out there on the team looks out for him. He wonders if Jack worries too.

 

They have one final drill at the end of warm-ups, each player taking a shot on goal. Shitty starts to cheer loudly, and Alexei joins in when Bitty’s wrister flicks up over the goalie’s shoulder.

 

“YEAH BITTY!”

 

“NUMBER FIFTEEN!”

 

Both Jack and Shitty shout as Bitty skates back towards the bench. They must be loud enough for Bitty to hear as he looks up for a moment into the crowd and grins. All three wave down at him excitedly. Bitty nudges the two towering defencemen standing next to him and tilts his head in their direction. The pair look up at Shitty, Jack, and Alexei for a moment before they lean in close and start talking excitedly.

 

“Looks like we’ve been spotted.” Jack nudges Alexei, who is already watching. Number Eleven in particular starts smiling in Alexei’s direction. He notices the ‘A’s on both their jerseys.

 

“Those two both alternates?”

 

“Yeah, that’s Ransom and Holster. They’ve been trying to convince Jack to bring you to a game for months now.” Shitty says between mouthfuls of fries.

 

“Really? Why you not invite me sooner, Zimmboni?”

 

“We had games to play ourselves, remember? Also I didn’t want to distract them from their studies.”

 

“Yeah fucking right,” Shitty swallows. “You just got jealous because Rans admitted Tater was his favourite Falconer and not you.”

 

“I didn’t! I don’t care if he likes Tater more, honestly,” Jack says, playfully defensive.

 

“I’ve still got the receipts from the group chat, dude.”

 

 “They really like me better? Aw,” Alexei adds, just to be a shit stirrer.

 

“Yeah, well, they haven’t met you. They’ll change their mind once they know how annoying you really are.”

 

Alexei laughs and tugs Jack into a gentle headlock.

 

“Me? I never annoying! Always lie!”

 

Jack shoves him off in time for the first puck drop.

 

Alexei has never been to a college hockey game before, but he likes it. At the end of the day, hockey is hockey, and it feels nice not to be watching a game where he knows most of the players on the ice. It’s also nice not have to pretend he isn’t cheering for one team over the other. He’s already a big fan of Samwell, even if it is out of loyalty for Jack. He’s excited to meet the rest of the team too.

 

What excites him most is watching Bitty out on the ice, and even watching Jack watching Bitty with a tiny smile he tries to hide. It shouldn’t be a surprise given how many players with similar builds Tater has seen whip around him at breakneck speeds on the ice, but Bitty is incredibly fast. He manages to dodge checks in ways that relieves a tiny amount of worry Alexei held. He’s a rocket to the net, and has a few decent shots on goal through the game.

 

It’s late in the third period when Bitty finally scores, and Alexei is out of his seat in an instant. It’s a tip in from the booming slap shot of Number Eleven, or Oluransi as it reads on the back of his jersey. It rockets towards the net from the slot and Bitty gets his stick on it enough to curl it past the goalie’s skate to make it the game winning goal. The team on the ice swarm Bitty into a massive hug while the spectators all clap and cheer. Alexei will be the first to admit he is probably one of the louder cheerers.

 

After the game, they head back to the place that Alexei learns is called The Haus. Alexei takes one step inside before he can jokingly ask Jack.

 

“You lived here?”

 

“Yeah,” Jack looks around the living room fondly.

 

“Bitty live here now?”

 

“He’s across the hall from my old room.”

 

“You used to be roomies? Cute!”

 

“Brah, you have no idea.” Shitty grins. “They used to go on little coffee dates all the time before they actually were dating. Jack doesn’t even like coffee.”

 

“Hey, I like coffee. Just not those lattes Bits always made me buy.”

 

“No one made you buy me those,” Bitty adds from the kitchen where he’s helping Holster grab beers from the fridge. Technically, those are their pre-drinks before the main event. Two of the frogs are already setting up a beer pong table while Lardo and Ransom argue over the playlist. While Alexei may have only just met most of these people, he already feels welcome.

 

It’s two beers later when a steady stream of college students start drifting into the Haus that Alexei is finally challenged to beer pong. His first opponents are Ransom and Holster, who jumped at the opportunity to play him first.

 

“Zimmboni! You team up with me?” Alexei catches Jack on his way past. 

 

“Sorry, I don’t really play. I was just gonna go, er, sort something out upstairs. Quickly.”

 

Alexei spots Bitty at his elbow and decides to leave Jack’s flimsy excuse as is. Shitty volunteers to team up with him instead and they manage to sink a few cups well. Ransom and Holster are eyeing of their three cups to go while Alexei and Shitty have only one left.

 

“Ugh, Bro, your pong game is totally off tonight.” Holster groans as Shitty misses his shot by the smallest margin.

 

“ _Bro._ ” Ransom responds biting his lip as he misses his shot too.

 

Alexei gets the final cup on his next turn, by this time there’s a decent crowd cheering them on but it seems their game was only a warm up to the main event. Lardo steps forward to challenge Alexei one-on-one.

 

He loses to Lardo, and he loses spectacularly.

 

“Well, that’s the second NHL player I’ve beat. Would be three if Jack would accept my challenge.” Lardo says coolly while taking a sip of something called ‘tub juice’. Jack had warned him to stay away from that concoction.

 

“Who the other player?” Alexei asks, wondering aloud if Jack had taken anyone else he knows back to Samwell.

 

“Oh, Kent Parson came last year. He’s not bad at pong, but he could use some practice.”

 

Alexei freezes for a moment. Whoever he would have expected to show up in a frat house in Massachusetts, it wasn’t him.

 

“Parse was a cool dude.” Ransom all but gushes before he remembers he’s standing next to Alexei.

 

“I mean…” he says, visibly flustered.

 

“Parse not so bad off the ice. Bad drinker, such a light weight.” Alexei says. After downing his umpteenth drink the words flow quickly.

 

“Hold up, you’ve gone _drinking_ with Kent Parson?” Holster asks.

 

“All Stars.” Alexei says, which is true. He’s not ready to talk about the other times with anyone else yet. Everyone seems to be satisfied with his answer either way, as they politely beg for some stories from the All Star Games. He tells a few funny things that happened, and leaves only the briefest mention of Kent in there.

 

At some time during the beer pong match, Jack and Bitty returned to the party going on in full swing around them. It’s clear they’re both trying to act casual in public, and Alexei feels a pang of guilt. They’re in Bitty’s house, he should be able to be with his boyfriend how he wants. Alexei bites his tongue when the urge to spout words about it bubbles away at the back of his throat.

 

Without using his mouth to speak, he occupies it drinking. And then he decides it’s a good idea to start dancing when a song he likes comes on. Alexei has never been a great dancer, but right now it seems a good idea. He’s a little drunk, but so is everyone else around him. As long as he doesn’t do anything catastrophically stupid it will be fine.

 

Somewhere between dancing and another drink, he ends up talking alone with Ransom. They’re a little further down the hallway, away from the epicentre of the celebrations. They’re talking friendly enough but Ransom (“Call me Justin if you want”) is looking at him with these big dark eyes. He’s a nice guy and Alexei is really enjoying talking to him. Alexei knows he’s enjoying this a little too much and it seems to feel wrong.

 

He asks himself, as Ransom smiles at him for the fifth time in about a minute, what the hell he’s doing. Because Ransom is great, and he’s clearly a fan of Alexei. It’s not like other guys he knows haven’t flirted or hooked up with fans before. But this is different. Alexei forces himself to remember he’s different. If it was another single guy in the NHL caught kissing some girl at a party, it would hardly make Dead Spin. But a single photo of Alexei with one of Jack’s old team mates would burn his life to the ground before he could drive back to Providence. Perhaps someone has already taken a photo of the two of them standing here. Maybe at a bad angle they could make things look worse.

 

The thought makes him feel nauseous. He excuses himself quickly, making his way out to the back porch. He stands outside and wills the cool air into soothing him. He almost doesn’t hear the footsteps leading up to him.

 

“Brah, you okay?” It’s Shitty, leaning forward on the banister with an empty solo cup.

 

 “Fine. All fine.” Alexei does his best to sound convincing despite being caught off guard.

 

“You taking care of my boy Jack on the ice?”

 

“Always.” Alexei learns against the wooden bannister as Shitty nods in approval.

 

“So I heard Jack told you about him and Bitty.” It’s a clear cut statement, but the tone of voice suggests to Alexei it’s also a question. He answers it best he can.

 

“Yes, very happy for them.” Alexei tries to fake a smile, but he can tell it isn’t fooling Shitty. He’s not sober enough to stop the truth. “But it’s hard.” He adds as an afterthought.

 

Shitty frowns.

 

“They have thing I can’t have.”

 

“Dude, sure of course you can.” He says, because at this point very little seems to faze Shitty. He’s not the first hockey player to come out to him. If Jack trusts Shitty, so does Alexei right now for better or worse.

 

“No.” He lowers his voice even though the music inside is loud and no one else is around. “Not with hockey. Not with Russia.”

 

“Okay, I mean, yeah the NHL may not know exactly how to support openly gay players right this moment, but that shouldn’t be the one thing that stops you. Russia on the other hand I won’t pretend to know shit about. Fuck that’s gotta be harsh, right?”

 

“I’m not complain. So lucky to have career, get to play. Is small price for all this.”

 

“You don’t have to be grateful others have it worse, bro. You have the right to do what makes you happy.”

 

_Selfish,_ speaks the little voice in Alexei’s head. Instead he says “Happy with what I have.”

 

“Sure, but you can share that happiness with someone else if you wanted to.”

 

He’s hit the nail on the head right there. Alexei wants that so bad. His family is back in Russia. He’s old enough to want to start a family of his own in America. Maybe no kids, but a family with another person. Someone to be happy with. Alexei stays silent for a long moment.

 

“Shit. sorry. I overstepped there. You know what’s best for you, I shouldn’t interfere like this.”

 

“No, no, is okay. You’re right. I just don’t know how…to want…” He swallows thickly before speaking again. “This guy I’m think I want to be with, but I’m scared. He get tired of me eventually. He should move on, deserves better.”

 

“Does jack know about this?”

 

“Can’t tell Jack. Make things bad.”

 

“Why?”

 

“He and Jack have history. Don’t know, but think it bad. I’m team, I’m friend, can’t do that to Jack.”

 

Shitty lets out a small, sad laugh.

 

“Let me guess. This guy wouldn’t happen to play for the Aces would he?”

 

“You know something about Jack and Kent?”

 

“Some of it. I see why you don’t want to tell Jack. You’re right, they’re both complicated. They haven’t been kind to each other lately, either. Last time, when Parson came here, he wanted to see Jack. Didn’t go over well. None of the other guys, apart from Bitty, know. Jack doesn’t like to talk about him. I can’t say I know Kent Parson; I’ve heard bad shit and I’ve heard good shit. But things can’t have been easy for him and I’m sure you can relate to that. But chances are, the only way you’re gonna figure this out is by trying.”

 

“Hard. Not sure I can do.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t know if I could either. But it’s up to you, dude.”

 

“Thank you,” Alexei is so far caught off guard wondering why Shitty would say any of this.

 

“Thank you for trusting me. I won’t tell anyone, okay? You don’t have to worry about that.”

 

“Okay.”

 

They both go back inside after that. The rest of the Kegster flies by in a blur of laughter and music, despite Alexei not touching another drink. He dances a little more, talks to a few more people and takes a lot of blurry selfies.

 

It’s two in the morning when things finally start to wind down. Alexei is reclined out on a grungy green coach minutes away from passing out when Jack comes over and shakes his shoulder.

 

“Come on, let me drive you home.”

 

Alexei is a little too groggy to think of enough words to protest that. He climbs into the passenger seat of Jack’s car and winds down the window.

 

“Don’t throw up.”

 

“Not that drunk.” Alexei laughs a little. They drive for a long time before Jack speaks again.

 

“Did you have fun?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good. You just seemed to disappear for a while there.”

 

“Just talking with your friend, shitty.”

 

“Cool. Did you er, talk to anyone else?” Jack’s hands shift on the steering wheel.

 

 “No. Why? Problem?”

 

“No, no problem. Just ever since came around for dinner with Bits and I you’ve seemed a little quiet. I just wanted to check in.”

 

“All fine.”

 

“You can talk to me about anything, you know that, right?”

 

“I know. It’s nothing.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Alexei almost wants to laugh at himself. A few too many drinks and he opens up to a man he barely knows, but when confronted by his own friend and team mate, he’s compelled to stay silent. Maybe he’ll regret talking to Shitty in the morning, when he broke so easily after years of being careful. He could blame alcohol easy enough, but the real answer is Alexei is just tired. It was almost easier with a stranger. There were no expectations. With Jack, Alexei knows enough of the history to be cautious. Alexei can walk on eggshells when he needs to. What’s to say he finds out about Kent and it makes things bad? At the end of the day, they have a professional relationship and they can’t let that be ruined.

 

“All okay. Really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N for some reason listening to E-MO-TION Side B both helped and hindered the writing process for this one. 
> 
> Me: I should really stick to the narrative I had planned  
> Also me: Just write a whole chapter on Tater going to Samwell as a side plot  
> Also Also me: why?  
> Also (x3) me: you gotta 
> 
> I hope everyone reading has a happy holidays!


	6. Chapter 6

The Aces run into injury trouble late in the season. They call up a few young guys from the AHL to plug the holes in the leaking ship and Kent wonders if it will be enough. Each game he talks about playing the best hockey they can. He knows that if they want to keep that playoff spot they can’t get soft now. He’s watching rookies fight tooth and nail to prove they belong here, and he’s watching his own vets put everything into each shift like it’s their last. Kent still wonders if it will all be enough. The Aces haven’t missed the playoffs in years, and Kent will be damned if they miss it this time.

 

His own problems are starting to show themselves again. A slight twinge in the shoulder that would be fine if he could get a good week’s rest on it. Kent refuses to scratch, knowing that it’s too big of a risk right now. This team needs him. So that slight twinge grows into a dull ache, but Kent still ignores it.

 

They’re coming up to last game against Providence. As the days tick off the calendar closer to the game, the media seems to be asking Kent a lot more questions. Each time he sits in his stall seems to be longer than the last, and Kent has never been a patient person. He’s sitting hunched over in sweaty clothes and an aching shoulder while microphones are shoved in his face and ask him difficult questions. Even after years of practice, it’s never easy. Today is particularly hard.

 

“As it currently stands, you and Jack Zimmermann are both tied second place in scoring. Is this something you’re thinking about leading up to tomorrow’s game?”

 

“Not really,” Kent says. “I mean yeah, I’m focussing on getting pucks in the net to win games, but I’m not that worried about who’s with me in the standings. I’m playing my own game out there and doing what I can for the team.”

 

“Is leading the league in scoring something you want to do this year?”

 

“Well, it’s always nice.” Kent gives a weak smile. “But as captain my main focus is getting this team ready for play offs. Anything else is a bonus.”

 

“Given how both you and Zimmermann have been performing on separate teams, does it remind you of your joint success in juniors?”

 

“Hard to say.” He’s been avoiding those memories all year. He knows it’s stupid, if not dangerous, to linger on them. It’s in the past. It’s over. Kent tries his best not to find it so hurtful.

 

“Have you thought about what it would be like to play with Zimmermann again?” Is the follow up question thrown to him.

 

Kent stifles back from flinching at the question. He rattles off an answer about the unlikelihood of that happening, but he’s working on autopilot while he’s trying to recollect his own thoughts inside his head. Sometimes he wonders if journalists can read minds. If they could see into his brain and see just how much Kent had wanted to play with Jack. No one in the media knows how much Kent had tried to get Jack to sign with the aces. No one knows how much Kent has missed him.

 

While he’s blabbering on some fake answer to the reporters, he forms the real answer in his head. _I want to play with him again so much, but Jack won’t ever want that. He doesn't want me any more._

 

Whatever he says to them seems to satisfy, and they move on to one last question.

 

“The Falconers have had some good games against you all season. How do you expect to go against their strong defensive core?”

 

Kent betrays himself yet again. At the mention of ‘Falconers’ Defence’ his mind jumps to the thought of Alexei. He really doesn’t need that right now.

 

“They've had a good season defensively, that’s true, but we approach it like we do every other game. We just have to keep putting pressure in front of the net and keep shooting pucks. Play a good sixty minutes and it should work in our favour.”

 

In an act of unforeseen mercy, they leave him alone after that. He’s showered and changed by the time Swoops checks up on him. Kent doesn’t need to explain how media has him feeling but Swoops listens anyway.

 

“Providence tomorrow,”

 

“Yep.”

 

“You ready?”

 

Kent takes a deep breath and thinks. Despite his aches and pains, he knows that he is physically prepared. He knows that this one game out of eighty-two isn’t a great deal but the past week’s media questions parade through his mind. Zimmermann versus Parson: it’s the same story they’ve tried to make all year. It’s more or less the same questions he’s been asked all year. They never say it, but after all this time he knows they’re all wondering.

 

_Do you miss Jack Zimmermann?_

 

_Should Jack Zimmermann have gone first over all?_

 

_Is Jack Zimmermann better than you?_

 

 “I don’t know.” Kent tells him.

 

Late that night, his phone buzzes with a direct message.

 

_A_Mashkov: Good luck tomorrow_

_A_Mashkov: Not too much luck_

Kent snorts down at his phone.

_KentParson90: you too. better bring you’re A game._

_A_Mashkov: always!!!!_

It’s an hour later before the next text.

 

_A_Mashkov: I’m thinking…still want to talk after game? Go somewhere after maybe?_

Kent isn’t sure how to reply, so he doesn’t. It’s rude of him, but he hopes a part of Alexei will understand. He has to keep his mind focused on the game and not on the possibility of anything happening after.

 

 

 

“You look like shit.” Riggs tells Kent at team breakfast in the hotel lobby the next day. Trust the resident veteran on the team to tell it like it is.

 

“Thanks. My alarm fucked up and woke me up at one. Couldn’t get back to sleep.” It’s a half lie. Kent woke himself up like he’s done half a dozen times before big games. He did it every morning of the Stanley Cup Finals. It started back in juniors when, well, back then he wasn’t the only one awake. He found it easily enough to drift off to sleep most other times, but last night he stayed awake. Kent chalks it down to bad luck. “I’ll nap before the game and be fine.”

 

“Here I was thinking you finally got some action last night.” Riggs shrugs and goes back to his muesli.

 

“Before a game? Nah.”

 

“Come on, it’s a good stress reliever.”

 

“I’m good, thanks.” Kent mentally reminds himself not to ask what Riggs does to relieve stress ever.

 

 “You’ve been pretty uptight lately.”  

 

Kent lets out a sigh a pours more coffee into his mug. Last time he checked, Kent had the ‘C’ on his jersey. He doesn’t deserve a pep talk about his non-existent sex life. Riggs raises his hands in defeat.

 

“Alright, fine, I won’t go into it. But I’ve seen heaps of guys – _great_ guys – who become captains and feel like they’re responsible for every tiny thing that happens out there. That’ll drive you crazy. Gotta relax when you can, right?”

 

Kent doesn’t get why Riggs feels the need to tell him this now. He’s been the captain for years. He’s lead them all the way to the Stanley Cup.

 

“I’m relaxed.”

 

Riggs laughs at that, and Kent laughs a little too. Swoops does what he does best and swoops into the conversation boldly declaring that Kent needs pampering. He eats the rest of his breakfast while Swoops enthusiastically rubs his shoulders (he’s gentle on Kent’s right side where he knows it’s sore, and Kent is quietly grateful Swoops remembered). He even drags one rookie into giving Kent a scalp massage and it’s all very ridiculous.

 

“I still think we should get one of the kids to be a footstool.” Swoops mumbles as he gently karate chops his neck. His idea gets shot down by Kent on behalf of the rookies.

 

“Dude? This feels kinda sacrilegious. There’s gotta be some law about ruining your captain’s hair.” The rookie, Peaty, says. 

 

“You’re not making it worse than it already is.” Kent assures him. He’s dealt with his annoying, albeit harmless cowlicks all his life.

 

Riggs takes a picture, but he doesn’t have an Instagram account to upload it to. He settles texting it to the group chat where someone can save it to use against Kent at some point in the future. The Ace’s D-Core has been working on a very impressive portfolio of receipts on him. Kent does his best to forget about that when he can.

 

He does manage to get a half decent nap before pre game, and the lasting grogginess quickly evaporates in the cacophony of the locker room. The noise is good. It’s what Kent needs to focus. His sticks are taped; his skates are laced. He can do this. One last game in Providence.

 

Warm ups fly by, and then so does the anthem as he stands out on the ice. Then, it’s time for the puck to drop. After that it’s all hockey, and all he has to do is trust the stick in his hands and the ice under his feet.

 

And then he can’t fucking score. No one on his team can. No one on the Falconers can either. Two periods of chippy play after chippy play inch pass. Kent gets called for tripping, but the Falconers get penalised minutes later. Penalty after penalty gets called. Both goalies make a few great saves and neither offence can convert on power plays. They walk into the second intermission scoreless.

 

Kent isn’t a fan of low scoring games. As a guy known for scoring goals, it makes him frustrated. He channels that energy for the third.

 

“Come on boys, we can do this. Let’s go out there and finish it.”

 

Kent jumps back over the boards for the third period determined and running on adrenaline. Off the first face off he gets the puck into the offensive zone. They pass the puck around until they get a good position and the puck flies over onto Kent’s stick. He shoots from the left circle going top shelf, but the puck is snatched out the air with a glove save. He tries again a few minutes later, hoping to go five-hole, but the shot is blocked. They get three more good chances in the first half, but none of them get in.

 

Then, one of the Falcs rookies gets frustrated and gets called for high sticking. Kent is on for the power play and this is exactly what he needs. If they can score on this, they can swing the game their way.

 

Kent is playing a little back in the offensive zone when it happens. The puck gets shot his way and before he can move his stick to receive it, he is intercepted.

 

There’s a Falconer’s player on a breakaway, streaking down the ice with the number one on his back. Kent jumps after him, pushing his tired legs to try and catch up. He’s chasing him all the way back into the Ace’s own zone and Kent knows he can score shorthanded. Kent is the only thing right now who can stop that. He thrusts his stick forward and makes a swipe for the puck. It collides with Jack’s leg and loses his edge. His stick gets trapped between the legs and Kent follows the momentum down before he can stop.

 

He crashes to the ice and skids along until he hits the wall. There’s a heavy weight tangled up with him and he’s struggling to get up.  

 

 _He wasn’t always this heavy,_ a tiny voice in his head supplies unhelpfully. Kent keeps his eyes closed as he struggles to get up, but the weight on top of him pushes back. He shoves back blindly. He isn’t expecting the voice he hears.

 

“Get off me.”

 

“You’re gonna have to get off me first, Zimms.” Kent says without thinking.

 

“Parse,” He hears a sigh and opens his eyes to look over at Jack as he untangles himself from the now broken stick and gets up. There are whistles blaring in his ears as he climbs to his feet.

 

He makes it to the bench before the referee confirms there will be a penalty shot. Kent tries to argue, but he knows it’s useless.

 

He’s sitting down with the rest of his team as Jack takes the penalty shot and scores. The stick breaks in his hand without realising it. The second in one night, Kent nods apologetically to the equipment manager.

 

He knows it’s all his fault. He’s meant to be the captain, he’s meant to lead by example, and he just cost them the game.

 

The clock ticks down in the third period and the Aces get shut out. They leave the ice quickly and quietly and head back to the dressing room. Kent dreads facing the media tonight. He’s rather stand under the shower until his skin turns pruney and Swoops has to save him from drowning, but he gets no such luxury.

 

“That loss was on me.” Kent tells the reporters. “The team all played great tonight and it was a close game but that penalty shot was my fault. I wasn’t thinking when it happened. I just saw a Providence jersey rushing down the ice and tried to stop him. We lost momentum after that.”

 

He can see the headlines and takeaways in his head now: _That settles it: Zimmermann beats Parson._  

 

He’s never wanted to see a hotel room more in his life than right now, which is why when he sees the man waiting outside for him, he’s tempted head back and take a long way round just to get to the bus. He gets noticed before he can retreat.

 

“Kent.” Alexei calls. “You never reply to my text.”

 

“Sorry.” Kent keeps his eyes down at his shoes.

 

“I just ask if you still want to talk.”

 

“What’s there to talk about?”

 

Alexei shrugs.

 

“Okay, fine. You want to talk? I’ll answer my own question. I wanted that to be a date.” Kent snaps.

 

“What?”

 

“Boston. I asked you in Boston and you said you didn’t know. Well there you go. Not that it matters, right?”

 

Alexei sucks in a breath, readying himself to speak, but Kent doesn’t let him.

 

“Listen. Whatever. I’ve had a bad night and I don’t want talk about any of this right now. I want to go home.”

 

Kent starts walking after that. He knows he’s not being fair, but he can’t bring himself to care right now. He’ll regret it later, he knows it. Beyond the sound of his own shaky breaths, and the thud of his footsteps on the floor he swears he can hear the whisper of a voice.

 

“I’m want that too.”

 

Kent doesn’t stop. Soon enough he’s far enough away to half convince himself he made the voice up. He’s quiet on the bus to the airport. No one tries to talk much to him on the flight, which he appreciates. He sits in the window seat with his head against the glass and watches from the corner of his eye as Swoops and a few of the boys play cards. He assumes it’s a game of poker until one of the rookies yells out “Go fish” and everyone breaks into a squabble accusing him of cheating. Kent wonders if he should go over and sort that out, but he decides not to. They’re (for the most part) adult men who can sort out a card game by himself.

 

 Kent closes his eyes and feels the phone in his pocket buzz. He switches it off without opening an eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little shorter, and I’m sorry about that! I’m looking at wrapping up this fic soon so there’s that to look forward to! They’re gonna get there eventually!

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy, can you believe we actually got Tater and Kent to appear in the same panel? I never though that would happen, look how far this rarepair has come. Bless.
> 
> Basically this is just my idea on how Kent and Tater's relationship could develop past being rivals to something more. I started writing this after 3.8 and before the rest of the updates have happened. I have no idea where this fanfic may go, let's hope it goes somewhere fun? 
> 
> If you spot any spelling errors feel free to let me know (but be gentle pls) and likes and comments are much appreciated <3


End file.
